It's Only Me
by greysnyper
Summary: Nobody said it was easy.


"They say you'll never love another 'til you love yourself. Well brother, I'm in love with everyone I see...It's only me."

Singing was never his forte. But several weeks of practice had been devoted to learning the right pitch, not deviating from the notes to harmonize, and forcing his voice to carry. A lot of work went into the sound because in his honest (and sometimes humble) opinion, sound was his only workable problem. He could act. He was born for it, he believed. For what wasn't sung, he portrayed with how he moved, looked, reacted. Acting was reacting, and reaction was instinct to him now.

The choice of performance had been easy. The piece was funny. It was also in his character. A song about an egotistical man who falls in love with himself? Gar had looked at the cd insert the moment he enjoyed the medley and thought 'That's me.' He didn't think much at the time though, of why he loved himself, because that hadn't been the case.

I'm forced to because nobody else can.

He didn't think much about it because he didn't want to. For what it was worth though, the song was upbeat and satirical. And it lacked a lot of openings for an actor to take a line and move with it. Thus, the song was harder to bodily portray and successfully doing so, meant better things.

Dancing wasn't a problem and he concluded with practiced ease in time with the dying notes. In the choreographed darkness post-performance, Garfield sighed shakily, aware that he'd never get over the nervousness auditions brought to him. He was grateful that he didn't require a mic for his try-out. Any lack of confidence the woman with the clipboard saw, would only work against him.

"Mr. Logan," Lady with the clipboard answered, auxiliary lights from the stage shining only on her thick brown hair and leaving most of her face in darkness. Gar still seeing spots tried to force a relaxed stance. "I am quite impressed."

He didn't know much about her. The general appearance she displayed gave her off as an artist. The hair wasn't quite in place and her clothes looked mismatched, yet still pretty in a strange and eccalectic way. He was positive her glasses, now removed, weren't prescription, but rather for appearance. And lastly, her clipboard was a mess of loose papers. She didn't say much prior. Called him out, hardly gave a second glance at what some would call his 'affliction'. Asked him to start and had sat unwavering, alone in the front row. He didn't think she did anything but impassively observe throughout his audition. Then again, he could only steal a few quick glances while he mocked smugness and stifled his natural fear of judgment. Though she was talking now, she didn't seem to say anything he hadn't heard before.

"There are about forty auditions this weekend so I will be sure to give you a call at the end of the week if Jump! Entertainment is interested."

It wasn't a 'no' though Gar didn't feel like holding out. Smiling customarily and sweeping a sleeveless arm back to comb across his hair, he mumbled something like 'Thank you very much ma'am.' and made quickly to the stairs behind the curtain. It wasn't until he had gathered his coat that Garfield started to doubt his initial doubt. After all, the casting clipboard girl hadn't asked him to do any other tricks. How many times had he been through that?

'So Gar? Turn into something! You can do that right?'

Maybe she was one of the few unbiased ones. A week was far too long of a time to dwell on how much hope he should have for people. He needed a distraction. He hoped to find it outside.

The stairwell lead to a generic metal door that acted only as a stage exit. It lay along the side of the auditorium and as soon as Garfield Logan pushed the door open, he could smell that the low hanging clouds that had tempered above the city 'scrapers had made true with their threats of rain. The pavement was a shining mirror of brown and though it wasn't raining anymore, some instinctual side of Gar hinted that there was a lot more to come. He zipped up the nylon coat absently, as he glanced along the row of glistening parked vehicles. He did not see the expected car anywhere.

He wasn't early. Actually, he was just a little late, having his audition time pushed back when a kid two slots before him got stage fright and happened to make a mess on stage-right. Cyborg, a person of timeliness, should have been here. As a drop from above made its final landing atop of Gar's furrowed brow, a familiar rev of an engine drew his attention in the opposite direction. He turned to find a red motorbike with rider contrasting the grey haze of the day, poking out of the alley behind the auditorium.

"How'd it go?" Robin asked as Gar jogged to the end of the building. The leader of the Titans had his helmet visor drawn up and it was shining with moisture, indicating that the teen had been in the downpour. Most likely pushing through it at breakneck speeds really. Despite the evidence though, the costume didn't appear in the least way damp.

Gar misaligned his jaw and shrugged passingly. "It went okay I guess. Where's Vic? I was expecting you to be on city watch or something."

Robin chewed his lip thoughtfully for just a second, revealing his belief that what was said next could be somewhat sensitive. "He was actually on his way to meet you but, uh, we got a call about a car chase in East End and he was closer. I offered to grab it anyways, or send one of the girls but I guess he really wanted to test his new wheels in a chase."

"Oh," nodded Gar. "He'd mentioned that."

Gar didn't point out that every time Cyborg did go on about how well he could make his 'baby' perform in a chase, he also promised that Garfield could tag along shotgun for the ride. If the changeling had lacked any acting skills, it wasn't evident in his disregard for showing his disappointment. But Robin was intuitive. Nobody could deny him that.

"Hop on. I bet you're hungry."

Intuitive enough to have known that in the preaudition anxiety, Gar had skipped lunch. And breakfast. And supper the night before...  
The older Titan held out a matching red helmet and Gar accepted, taking also a spot behind Robin and watching as the city became treated by a second wash of rain.

The bike roared to life with an eagerness that connected it to its driver. Gar let his arms grow comfortably tighter around the built torso in front of him and couldn't help but compare this ride to the smooth experience of Cyborg's 'baby'.

"You didn't h-," Garfield cut his own yell short when his voice screamed back at him. He flinched and so did Boy Wonder.

"You don't have to shout," he heard Robin, realizing that behind the percussion of the Red Bird and the thunder of wind and traffic competing for volume, their helmets shared some sort of communication relay. He should have really expected it. "I can hear you fine."

"Sorry," apologized the Changeling, though Robin had hardly sounded annoyed. "I was going to tell you that you didn't have to pick me up. Or at least, not as Robin. Do you plan to pull through some McDonald's drive through as Robin?"

They turned a corner, catching the light as it flicked to amber. Robin's cape was constrained by Gar's body and in a passing window's reflection, the boy detective hardly looked natural with a passenger.

"Good point," Robin replied, tilting his head somewhat as he expertly pondered the question as they avoided a pothole hungrily filling with water.

Garfield would have offered to skip the meal, but already he could feel that the emptiness had settled in more than his stomach. He mostly felt hollow. He needed nourishing junk food, and stat! Catching the slight twitch of Robin's wrist and the death grip the boy commanded over the Red Birds steering, Gar wondered if the other had the need to leave the residential district of North Park. Drive a little faster. He had been denied at least one chase this afternoon.

"Maybe we could stop somewhere and you could ditch the outfit. I'm sure McDonald's won't find Dick worth special noticing," he offered. Food first was required before Gar had to hold on for dear life as Robin went from respected law enforcer to competing speedster in new record time.

There was a pause as Robin pondered it. Or, Gar decided a moment later, while Dick considered how to turn that suggestion down. "Can't," he finally confessed. "Bats would kill me."

"For going out as...you?" The bike puttered uncontentedly at a four-way stop and though only the street before them shared view of Robin's expression, Gar could be certain that there was a frown present. "You go out as Grayson all the time."

"On my own, yes." Robin answered with stoic reform. "But you have to admit that I'm in a very obvious crowd. It's no big secret to anyone around us right now that you could be Beast Boy, Gar."

Their turn to ride again, Robin revved the bike to life again and allowed the rain to pound into them harder. "It only takes one semi-interested person to notice that one 'Dick Grayson' hangs around with you. It wouldn't be too hard to put two and two together."

"I see," Gar mumbled, and it would have been lost unheard had Batman not supplied his apprentice with kick-ass helmets.

"Does that bother you?"

If Robin had been treading around the topic carefully, Gar knew that his due had come. It was easily known in the Tower, how Robin felt about keeping so many secrets. The last thing the Changeling needed now was to give Dick a reason to go into a brooding fit, having already been stood up by his arranged ride. He could see it now. Robin would get quiet and then maybe come up with some excuse like remembering that he had to investigate a lead and Gar would be stuck bussing home in the rain. No, he'd probably fly. One bus trip a day where he got to be zoo-on-wheels was enough.

"It's just," he grasped for some offering, needing to enact operation: Anti-Bat brood before he screwed up his friends' feelings. "We never get to hang out as Dick and Gar."

"I'm the same person you know," argued Robin.

Gar mused over this for only a second. "Yeah, but in past experiences, when Robin hangs out anywhere, something bad happens. Criminals and aliens and certain mercenaries seem to be drawn to Robin. How can you expect me to enjoy my McVeggie meal while I'm waiting paranoid-like for the roof to be blown in?"

"Point made," Robin nodded. Gar could now imagine a small grin as the Boy Wonder entertained the ingenious analogy. "But I still can't. It's not just my identity. Once you peg me to Robin, Batman would be next. And Batgirl."

"And Batman would really kill you wouldn't he?"

Robin laughed. "No. Much worse. I'd only be wishing he'd have decided to kill me."

"So that would be where we call Superman and the JLA in. Can you see Superman flying about as Batman was all psycho on you? 'Stay good Batman. Stay good!'" Gar hardly made the final joke without sniggering. Robin sounded very strange with the headset catching his lack of restraint with snorting.

Another block later and a thought struck the green skinned changeling. "Wait, you said that Dick Grayson was closely tied to Batman's identity? Then would that make Batman your-,"

"-dad?" Dick finished. "Please don't tell me you think that."

"Psh! Give me some credit. I know about your p-," he cut himself off, thinking that it was stupid to have even begun. "Sorry."

Robin gave something of a shrug. Felt more than Gar could see it. "Don't be. You and I have that much in common."

A silence seemed unfitting. They broke past Torrent Ave. and the sea was suddenly in sight. Robin leaned back inquiringly. "So you're saying you don't know who Batman is yet?"

Gar didn't answer, having suspected that this secret hadn't become so secret anymore in the Tower. Dick waited before continuing, "Because when my name got around, Vic and Raven pieced it together."

"Star?"

"Didn't find it important," Robin shrugged again. "But she might know."

Another pause.

"Do you?"

Once more, Gar could almost see the smirk slowly conquering Boy Wonder's face. "No comment."

Robin chuckled and shook his head. "Okay, what I'm going to tell you is obviously more secret than, well, anything. Ever."

Gar nodded and subconsciously leaned his head closer, as if this would keep others from hearing them. "Will it be alright if you just say so in public here?"

"These helmets ensure confidentiality," Robin confirmed. They were really kick-ass now.

"Then I am as attentive as I'll ever be."

Gliding the Red Bird around a stalled car, buildings and trees blurred and the bike almost breached the speed limit. "Batman is Bruce Wayne."

"What?! No way! That clumsy playboy is the Bat!?"

A red helmet nodded. "Yeah. Why? Who'd you think Batman was?"

Garfield found that he couldn't frown with this newfound tidbit screeching around in his brain. Yet a flush was working its way up his jaw when he realized just how absurd his own choice had been. "That, um, Jeeves guy."

"Alfred!?" Robin's exclamation was loud enough to match Gar's initial shout. "That's insane!"

"Not so!" debated the younger Titan. "When he came to help Cy with the car, and after that he stopped by after you made Vic throw you from the roof downtown, he was uber leet. And he might be old but I thought that was perfect for his disguise. Nobody would expect the old guy!"

"Nor the gorgeously rich bachelor?" Gar wondered if his animal hearing could pick out the sound of Robin's brow rising. If these were truely and honestly kick-ass headsets...

"It's still a decent hypothesis. It's always the butler on t.v. at least."

They turned at the waterfront, the bike wonderfully not hydroplaning as the hill gave the bike an added push. Robin's tone was dry and disbelieving. "You saw Alfred and Batman in the same room together!"

"Yeah, well, Batman's got the ninja skills. And Flash can do the two-person-in-one-spot trick easily." Gar was growing tired of trying to defend his amatuer deducing.

"Right." drawled the driver. "The worlds greatest Butler, Batman, and Flash all teamed up to confuse you. Are we getting food or will we eventually end up taking this road to the plant and most likely experiencing another of those so-called bad guys that are drawn to me when I hang out with you?"

The conversation had seemed to distract the green Titan long enough to forget his lack of greasy goods. Robin's mention of their still unknown destination though, had lured hunger back to its rightful place and Gar's stomache gave a gurgle that was hard to ignore.

A memory came to Gar, fresh from his mention of the recent Robin-Scarecrow incident. "Downtown they have Ginzai's Pizzeria," he offered. The whole disaster had played itself out on the Pizzeria's roof. They had visited a few times as a group prior to that. Surely costumes and green skin wouldn't be too strange now. One could only hope.

"Sounds like a plan," answered Robin, and it was then that Gar made the connection that to get from the waterfront to downtown, they'd have to take the Expressway. As if sharing this thought with Gar, the Red Bird growled all the more eagerly as they picked up speed.

Lizza Marie Alena looked up past long lashes and fake reading glasses and did her damndest not to cringe or frown. The man on the stage didn't seem to understand the concept of music. The words he belted into that mic were more accurately defined as offending-and-should-be-illegal noise. Lizza had already crossed out his name when he finished. Panting, he looked down at her with a derogatory grin, and she crossed his name out a second time, for principal.

"Thank you kindly, Mr. Jamestone. You were our last applicant and I'll be sure to contact you in a weeks time if you got the part."

He smiled, and his forhead shone almost unnaturally under the auxilerary lighting. "No, thank _you_ Miss. And please, feel free to call me regardless. My nights are free."

Lizza believed that she should have gotten some reward for not saying 'I can see why.' and just bluffed a considering look as she scribbled his name into nothingness.

After Jefferson Jamestone had finally left the building (thank God, or the JLA, or whoever was watching over her) Liz looked down thoughtfully at the now thirty-nine names. No serious thinking was required at the moment, but from the abbreviations and the arrows, checkmarks and scribbles much like Jamestones', the Jump! Productions' young casting director could safely assume that she'd be dividing her attention amongst seven individuals.

It wasn't a large role, nor one for a particularily big production. But all good stories required some sort of minor character who possessed the razzmatazz element.

Absently, her pen pulled itself down to the final underline name on her list. Garfield Logan had been nearly flawless in his audition. His technique was lacking nothing. And Ms. Alena could always appreciate a Barenaked Ladies fan. But there was also his reputation to keep in consideration. She was experienced enough to know it. She knew that Mr. Logan knew it. The world just wouldn't see a character who was original. They'd see green skin. Be expecting some sort of shape-shifting. They'd see Beast Boy and nobody else.

In the stiffling darkness, Lizza slipped off her glasses long enough to rub the bridge of her nose. She wondered how many people would remember Gar from his previous works. He had been a successful child star. But that was to be expected when you had an adorable infant who would change species everytime he hiccupped.

"It's out of my hands now," Lizza yawned and with some lethargy nagging at her movements, she gathered her bag and made a mental note to deliver a more organized version of her list to her partner Steve Gannings. Maybe she'd add Jamestone's name to the revised list too, if only to marker it out.

Unfolding her umbrella outside, Lizza waited for her ride and had to admit that Jump! wouldn't be interested in contracting Garfield for the role. For an aspiring actor, being different like that must really suck. Yet Lizza knew that Beast Boy also had other things going for him. Afterall, could one truely be ruined with friends like the Titans backing him?

Liz didn't think so. Maybe someday, the rest of the world would wake up and agree.

"She's left." John Register announced, watching the auditorium camera witness the metal door slowly draw itself to a close behind Lizza. "And it's only been what, seven hours of my ass falling asleep?"

"Calm yourself," came John's answer from the shadows. "We recieved what we came for Doctor."

Squeezing his velvet shaded eyes tightly shut, Doctor Register was not ready to appreciate the gains from his wasted day. "That animal was only on stage for about five minutes. We could have been in and out in an hour!"

"Oh please. I did not bring down this location's security grid at my leasure. Wayne Corp. funds this establishment and they get what he pays for. That includes a security system. I had to put a lot of luck on the line to bring it down for the ten minutes it took to put you here to observe your quarry. It'll be another minor miracle if I can get us out without tripping alarms. Do you really want to explain to the Titans why you're breaking and entering a place so closely related to the day plans of their greenest member?"

The shadow shifted and John found a red light blinking at him. On and off it flickered.

"You're recording me?" he snapped, pushing himself from the chair and noticing the faint outline of the cap dangle beneath the camcorder.

His partner in the shadow could have been smiling. "If only to catch this kodak moment of you admitting you're wrong. Now, do you want to explain all this to the Titans? Care to share with them your little obsession?"

"It's not obsession," snarled the doctor as he reached out and grabbed the top of the camera. He pushed it down, yet without the force he could have mustered. There was still no telling as to how dangerous his current ally was. "It's science."

The cap returned to its duty and the man beside John shrugged. "Consider the discomfort on your ass to be a sacrifice to science then, Mr. Register."

Black sleeves folded themselves over one another as Register prooved to his accomplice that his frown could indeed deepen. "We watched a bunch of idiots sing and dance. Your reasoning?"

A sigh, impatient with the doctors impatience, escaped from the one corner and John got his answer. "Applied science. You came to me with the general outline of your plan and it sucked because you had no knowledge of Garfield. One gets knowledge through observation. Today, you sat and witnessed how he acts outside of the Titans. What sort of enviornment he wants to be part of. It's all educational."

"'Educational' my ass," growled Register, and the whole 'ass' connotation was becomming a little too cliche for even his accompliss. "I could learn all I ever needed to know about the kid if I had a scapel. How well he can belt out a tune really doesn't matter then. Nobody will need to know what sort of characters he can play or what he's got memorized when I write up my reports."

"You are one sick puppy Mr. Register."

Register grinned, catching the pun. It was thin and fleeting expression though. "So Mr. Logan went on stage and didn't trip up. I fail to see what this implies."

His partner slipped over to where the movie projector had been moved. Leaning his weight upon the array of secondary light controls, a masked pair of eyes looked over the rows of seats and a somewhat distant stage. "He didn't trip up because he was good. But compared to the other applicants, he was very good. He does his homework. And from what you indicated when you first met me, Garfield Logan, i.e. Beast Boy, is impulsive and probably prone to A.D.D or A.D.H.D."

Register snorted. "'Probably?'"

The doctor dropped his smirk when he saw the scowl forming on the others face. "I bet you don't like children. Any children."

"So?"

"So, that explains why you need my help."

John Register shoved his hands into his pockets, wishing they where deeper and more familiar. Black wasn't his thing. Black was apparently neccessary for slipping past Wayne security. "And why weren't you 'helping' when the fat kid came out after Garfield finished? You took off on me pretty quickly."

A nod confirmed Register's slight fear that his mysterious partner had left for valid reasons. "I observed him outside."

Register waved his wrist absently. "And..."

"He was stood up by his cybernetic friend."

Sighing at the implied pause, John urged the other to go on. "And this matters why?"

"The Changeling ended up going home with Robin."

The second pause wasn't as long lived. "This is all leading somewhere isn't it?" Register queried.

"Ugh. I'm beginning to think that you're going to give all us 'Diabolical Thinkers' a bad name. It means a great deal if your would-be prey is getting bike service from Batman's own. And the two did make out very buddy-buddy."

"He has friends in high places," John conceeded, shrugging dismissively. "There are assassins who handle such things. I want to get a hold of that boy."

"Oh my God," Registers' companion seemed to be groping for some sort of blunt item now. "We're talking about the Boy Wonder! Half of the 'Dynamic Duo'! The kid beat Slade. Freakin' Slade! If he's good friends with Beast Boy, hell, if he's even remotely aquainted, you've got him to go through and-"

Dr. John Register interrupted quickly, "Slade! That's it! We can convince Slade to take care of the Wonder Boy and really, that's one problem solved! We could let him in on the tularemia too!"

Abnormally strong hands found Johns' shoulders and he shook. "Doctor, nobody convinces Deathstroke of anything. He'll pretty much gut you where you stand if you so much as think to offer to help him."

John raised a brow and dryly asked, "And how do you know all this?"

His unnamed partner smiled smartly and handed over the camcorder, which John just noticed was covered in some moisture. "I observe."

Moments later, the two intruders were making their way down a hollow stairway, about to embark back upon needy contiguous rain.

Registers companions' voice murmered up to the higher levels, unnoticed by presently ineffectual cameras. "What do you think the Bird and the Beast talk about?"

"I cannot believe you are asking that. Who asks those sorts of questions?"

"No, but think about it. Do they talk about hero things, or maybe they're like normal kids. Observation is part deduction. Do you think they talk about parents?"

"Gar has none."

"So maybe neither does Robin. Maybe they talk about Batman."

"I can so see that. Robin speeds around town and reveals the secret identity of Batman to Gar. Then he'll learn that the brat couldn't keep a secret."

"Too much sarcasm is bad for you Reg. I'd give the kids more credit. If you underestimate them..."

"Listen buddy, I don't like being called 'Reg'."

"'Buddy'? I knew you'd warm up t-," a heavy door banged shut and sealed all further sounds.  
---

**Author's Notes:**Unlike anything else I've written yet, this was unplanned. I got bored on Campus one day between classes and started writing. I finished it later that day at home. Maybe I'll continue but I have no idea on what.

Anyways, proof that having special powers can still not negate the lack of confidence some of us feel.


End file.
